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mast tv 

BY 

PEARL E. WIXON 



W. E. BEEBE, Printer 

PARMA, MICHIGAN 



f5 3 £T-4- S' 

, 1 

/? £. 3 


COPYRIGHT 1923 
PEARL E. WIXON 


DEC 29 1923 


©Cl A7 66521 


CONTENTS 


T- 

\ 

<• 

THE MASTER 
THE SUN RISE 
YESTER YEARS 
LA GRAND 
TO A PINK MOTH 
A MIDSUMMER’S DAY . * 

A GIRL'S DREAM 
WHEN LOVE SHINES THROUGH 
THlE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 
THE ELFKINS .... 
CHARITY AND NON CHARITY 
A MOTHER’S TRIBUTE 
THE LULLABY .... 
HIS EXCUSE .... 
HE’S JUST MY BOY . 

TWO LITTLE INDIANS 
QUEEN OF THE FIELD 
CHRISTMAS EVE 

NEW YEAR. 

TWO BIRTHS .... 

M ARCH 31ST SUNSET 
AN AUTUMN SUNSET 
THE CHOCOLATE DROP . 

YOU LITTLE FLIRT . 

THE GOSSIPS .... 
THE TRAITOR .... 
SUCCESS. 


7 

8 
9 

10 

11 

12 

13 

14 

15 

16 

17 

18 

19 

20 
21 
22 
23 

25 

26 
27 

29 

30 

31 

32 

33 

34 

35 











THE DEBT.36 

YOU TEEMING TOWN.37 

OUT IN THE WORLD.38 

THE GLAD WAY.39 

THE (SUNSHINE OF MY SMILE .... 40 

TO SEEKERS OF WEALTH.41 

WHEN MEN GAZE .,.43 

ROSES AND VIOLETS.44 

THE MESSAGE OF THE ROSES . 4 .45 

THE MARRIAGE HOUR.46 

FRUIT.. 47 

WHAT I WOULD BE.48 

ODE . .49 

ODE TO MELANCHOLY.51 

THIE BIRTH OF AN ODE.52 

ODE TO MUSIC.53 

WHO KNOWS WHATS ON THE MORROW . . 55 

FAME . 56 

I KNOW A PATH.57 

THE HOUR OF THE POET ..... 61 












THE MASTER 


When every chord has been struck 
On the strings of the human soul, 

And the music of every emotion 
Blent in a harmonious whole. 

When the gold has been tempered and tried 
Rent from the heart’s deepest depth 
And the dross poured out on the tide 
With only the pure drops left; 

The soul with majestical beauty 

Shines forth from the windows of clay 
And the deeds till then but a duty 
Become a lambent bit of play. 

In mingling tones are heard 

The voices of those on the strand 
With joyousness are stirred 

Proclaim the touch of the Master Hand. 


7 


SUN RISE 


Sweet morning wakes 

And shakes her dainty head. 

Her golden tresses 
Showering one by one. 

She swiftly drives 
Stars, moon, and all before 
And breaks the day 
With effluent light and song. 

Flushed Luna droops 
Her slender pretty face 
As if abashed 

By night’s too long embrace, 

And dreading lest 
Fair day should come and find her 
She quickly turns 
And seeks her own fair home. 


8 


YESTER-YEARS 


This day is mine, all in my power, 

And work and play shall be my dower, 

Forgetting sores of bygone years 

And melt them with warm healing tears. 

From dawn till dusk we have our woes, 

In sleeping, we forget our foes. 

Let’s say goodbye to all our fears, 

Those things that happe’d in yester-years. 

Last night, I venged a direful hate, 

Today, sweet morn will expiate. 

Last night was years and years ago. 

Today is now, so let it glow. 

The joys of life are far between 

We’ll leave all else and make our glean. 

The morrow comes perchance with tears 
We’ll just put it with yester-years. 

Oh! morn so bright to make or mar, 

Oh midday glare, and sunset bar! 

Live, love, right now, don’t waste in tears, 
Too soon you’ll be in yester-years. 


9 


LA GRANDE 


Blue river, gently kissed, 

Early in the morning. 

Banks a gleaming through the mist, 
Gay with flowers adorning. 

Yellow river, lightly tossed, 

In the bright noon weather. 

Reeds a rustling almost lost, 

Tangled all together. 

Green river, shadow dipped, 

Calm and sweet at evening. 

Trees a glinting bright sun-tipped, 
Mirrored ones agreeing. 


10 


TO A PINK MOTH 


I have carried you far, Pink Moth, 
Not a busy fellow, instead, 

I found you in all your sloth, 

Asleep in a flowery bed. 

A dainty satin cream head, 

By the yellow petals folded. 

Shaded pink, almost to red, 

Your double wings are molded. 

Pink trunk like a minature Zeppelin 
With two green lamps for a light. 

Pink horns, and rosy legs fine 
Carved with an Artificer’s might. 

I shall leave you asleep, Fair Moth, 
In your velvet, flowery bed. 

The petals are folding soft, 

And the flower will soon be dead. 


11 


A MIDSUMMER’S DAY 

Soft lazy clouds adrift in the sky, 

Winds blowing free, fair, and gay. 

Thistle downs sailing o’er tree tops so high, 
What a beautiful midsummer’s day! 

Bees searching hurriedly each flowery heart, 
Birds talking querulously. 

Butterflies vanish from sight with a dart, 
How hazy this midsummer’s day! 

Fruit in the garden is breaking the vine, 
Trees laden down o’er the way. 

Berries on bushes are growing so fine, 

What a lazy midsummer’s day! 


12 


A GIRL’S DREAM 


A short but a sweet, sweet dream, 

’Twas too sweet to have lasted long, 

For when did one e’re dream a dream 
But ’twas sure to die out like a song. 

A dream of a love pure and strong 
Of a. true mate to love throughout life, 

Of sweet childish faces to mother, 

To guard and help through the world’s strife. 

A dream that I knew must be smothered, 

A joy that I knew must be killed, 

A love that I knew must be conquered, 

For ’twas a fate that myself had so willed. 

But the dream it was sweet while it lasted. 

So dream on, little girl, ’tis no harm, 

Lots of loves and hopes have been blasted 
But to be kindled again sweet and warm. 


13 


WHEN LOVE SHINES THROUGH 


Fold not your wings 
Sweet love, but stay, 

Why woulds’t thou wing 
Thy flight away. 

Tis ah, so dark, 

Skies lose their blue, 
Naught comes to harm 
When love shines through. 

Sweet love, thy stay 
Has been so brief, 

Thou’lt now away 
And cause me grief ? 

The fateful charm 
I would I knew 
That keeps sweet love 
A shining through. 

No more to love 
And yet to live? 

Love guides your step 
Though dragged with care. 
Day’s toilsome end 
Comes unaware. 

Hearts homeward turn 
When love shines through. 


14 


THE BROWN HOUSE 


There's a little brown house 
Snug sheltered by trees, 

Where the birds hold carouse 
Among the green leaves, 

In morning’s gay dawn, 

At mid-day’s warm glare 
In the soft glow of evening 

Little house, you’re still there. 

I’ve wandered in woodlands 
Away from my cares, 

I’ve sought the soft lake-sands 
To banish night-mares, 

I return there to find 

That my sighs are less rare, 
When I see, little house, 

That you’re still sitting there. 

In North-lands I roam 
Among the tall pine, 

Others now call you home. 

But I still claim you mine, 

And this much I pray 

Since to me you’ve been fair, 
Love bless all who dwell 
In that little house there. 


15 


ELFKINS 


Sing, you little elfkins sing, 

Blow your little lungs and sing, 

The whole wide world will sing songs with you, 
The whole wide world will breathe life with you. 
Laugh and sing for joy is with you 
Sing, you little Elfkins, 

Shout. 

Dance, 3 ’ou little elfkins dance, 

Lift your feet, as in a trance, 

Thy feet have joy's own wings tied to them. 

The world is full of lovely people. 

Dance and sing for joy is with you, 

Dance, you little elfkins, 

Prance. 


16 


CHARITY AND NON CHARITY 


To learn of one thing curious 
It was my chance to fall, 

That one of great necessity 
Hath given of her all, 

While the other of her plenitude 
Has refused to give at all. 


17 


A MOTHER’S TRIBUTE 


Damp dews are on her forehead, 

Dew’s dampness on her palms, 

A wailing note is heard 

But a Mother’s voice is calm. 

She’s obeyed earth’s obdurate laws 
Death staying not, unshaken, 

His swift and cruel jaws 
A mother’s life has taken. 

1 

Way off in the great beyond 
A spirit wavering flies 
And a babe a new made orphan 
Wafts up its wailing cries. 

The frail earth home no more 
Shall rouse to an infant’s cry, 

Death came and shut the door 
Of love light in her eye. 

Through realms of space alone 
The spirit comes serene 
To caress and bless her own 
In calm and peaceful dream. 

And babe, life’s journey through 
In boyhood’s, manhood’s lust, 

An angel smiles on you, 

Be worthy of her trust. 


18 


LULLABY SONG 


The night winds are blowing high, Baby Dear, 
Sleep, sleep, so softly, and near. 

The bright stars are peeping out, one by one, 
They’ll guide your little dream boat home. 

Chorus: 

So, Lullaby, Lullaby, Baby Dear, 

Guarded so closely, pray, have no fear. 
Rock-a-bye, Rock-a-bye, dream away, soon 
You’re eyelids will ope and hear mother’s sweet 
croon. 

Father is coming soon, Baby Dear, 

So sleep my little one, have no fear. 

The night things are singing to you in the dark 
They know when little boats embark. 


19 


HIS EXCUSE 


“What is the matter, you little dear, 

What have you there in your hands ? 

Why, its mother's plants so bright and gay, 
You have tom them into strands." 

He’s just a wee little tot, this child, 

Just two years turned to-day. 

But Oh! what a plight, my plants so bright, 
Indeed! what shall I say. 

“You may sit right here, you naughty child, 
I’ve told you twice to-day. 

You may sit on this chair a little while, 

Then you may run and play." 

“You want to get down at last, my dear?" 

It was a long time to stay. 

“Well then, say, ‘Mother, now, may I go?’ 
“Muvver, I tan’t say MAY." 


20 


HE’S JUST MY BOY 


Brown eyed laughing mischief maker 
Tumbling in with such a din, 

What a rougish little faker 
What is bubbling up within? 

“Some tacks and string, to make it strong? 
There you are, now run along.” 

He's just my boy. 

Care free happy little boy 

Scampering in and out all day, 

Every trouble doth alloy 
While you’re happily at play. 

“Now what! You want some jam? 

Please close the door; don’t let it slam.” 
He’s just my boy. 

Golden days of happy childhood, 

Sunshine quickly following rain 
Learning secrets of the wildwood 
Care free life without a pain. 

“Sleepy? Tired out? That’s right. 

Say your prayers, Good night, Good night.” 
He’s just my boy. 


21 


TWO LITTLE INDIANS 


Two little brown toy Indians 
With purple feathers tall 
From head to toe you measure 
The size of my thumb, that's all. 
In you, what a world of pleasure 
For a little boy so small. 

Sometimes you're recklessly hanging 
From an airplane’s dizzy heighth 
Or else you're in a dug-out 
Paddling away, for your life, 

Or one is a brave engineer 
Driving a flying express 
The other a lazy hobo 

Between two box cars pressed. 

Two little brown toy Indians 
With hardly no clothes at all, 

In you, what a world of pleasure 
For a little boy, so small. 


22 


QUEEN OF THE FIELDS 


Oh! I must away, oh! far away, 

Under the shining sky, 

I must away to the fields, today, 

To the woodlands, I must fly. 

Oh, merry’s the song and happy the chirr, 
Of the wee things over there. 

I miss the flirt of the wings that whirr 
And the tiny limbs so fair. 

For I am queen of the woodland dell 
All fays obey my will, 

And fairies bright with joy pell-mell 
Each from a rosy frill 
Hurry to greet me, singing a song 
And dancing with laughter gay. 

To many a tune they trip along 
Each little happy fay. 

With eager feet they crowd and push 
And vie with one another, 

And many a kiss is lost in the crush 
That’s bent on me to smother. 

They fly to the dimples of cheek and arm 
To rest their gossamer wings 
And slumber away without alarm 
These wee little fanciful things. 


23 


All day, away in the shining fields 
We wander over the heather, 

We know, where's the richest bed that yields: 

Diamonds for us to gather. 

And gold upon gold lies lavishly 
As far as the eye can see, 

And a robe of gold so ravish’ly 
Is busily spun for me. 

For here I reign a queen supreme 
And a robe of gold must wear 
And flowery garlands a fairy team 
Must deck my nut-brown hair. 

So with dance and song I hold my court. 

Till the sun rays low reclining 
Breaks up the jest of song and sport 
At the golden day’s declining. 


24 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


Oh! calm bright night 
I seem to hear 
Sweet music coming 
Nearer and Near. 

I stand alone 
By the window sill 
And through the night 
So calm and still 

I feel the breath 
Of a heavenly being 
Fluttering around 

While a voice is singing. 

“To earth shall be 
A message new 
That brings a peace 
Great peace to you.” 

“Peace upon earth, 

Good will to men, 

Peace to you brother 
The king has come.” 


25 


NEW YEAR 


I greet you, bright New Year 
With a glad and smiling face, 
Your own holds not a tear, 

And smiles your visage grace, 
Your cheeks are rosy hued 
Your lips are like a cherry 
Your eyes are fire imbued 

You’re a New Year very merry. 
Good bye, Old Year, 

Hello, New Year, 

I’m glad to see you here. 

So we’re to rove together 
For nigh four hundred days 
In rough and rugged weather 
In joys or in our plays, 

Let’s turn each little sorrow 
That’s sure to come our way 
Into a bright to-morrow 

Let’s just be bright and gay. 
Good bye, Old Year, 

What say, New Year, 

I’m glad to see you here. 


26 


TWO BIRTHS 


Another star in the night, 
Though faint and far its gleam, 
Another star with a light 
To shine on world’s serene. 
Through mist and infinite space 
With steady and steely rays, 
This new star holds its place 
Borne into eternal days. 

A new song soars aloft 

From lips till now but dumb 
A new song warbles soft 
The singers day is come, 

With tone so faint and dim 
A trilling soft and low 
Till bubbling o’er the brim 
Breaks in an eternal flow. 


27 


MARCH WINDS 


The March winds are blowing, 

Now high, now low; 

Old winter is going, 

With her ice and snow. 

Come on, with the south wind, 

The east or the west. 

I’m sure I can’t tell 
Just which one is best 
When the March winds are blowing. 

The river is flowing, 

With a cry, though low. 

It has broken its covering 
Of ice and snow. 

Hurl off the big ice cakes 
That burden your chest 
Let the mad little white caps 
Enlighten your breast 
When the March winds are blowing. 

Blow, March winds! Blow! 

Blow high, blow low. 

Blow us your rain 

Or blow us your snow. 

Through your smiles and tears 
And your chills and fears, 

Old winter will vanish 
With flaunting and jeers 
When the March winds are blowing. 


28 


MARCH 31st SUNSET 

The golden sun in a liquid fire 
Falls in a lake of gold, 

Of day we thought she ne'er would tire 
So strong she seemed and bold. 

But see, how the earth has rolled around 
And packed the clouds for a bed 
And soft as down, is the gold-fringed mound, 
That rests the bright sun-red. 

The moon in the east is tree-top high 
Round, full, yet pale for a while, 

For soon she will need all her blushes bright, 
And scarce can she hide her smile. 

The flaky white clouds are melting above 
Into the deep azure blue, 

The eyes of the night are ope’d like a dove, 
And the shades come lurking through. 


29 


AN AUTUMN SUNSET 


The long, sweet evening slowly fades and wanes. 
The golden sun betakes itself to rest; 

The hum of insects beat in measured tune 
And all the world seems lifted up and blest. 

The pure white clouds all verging to the sun, 
Reflect the mellow light and shed it round. 

They, too, change swiftly, melt and faintly fade 
And melting loose themselves in night and shade. 

The moon hangs pale and silent near the earth, 
The stars too timid yet to venture forth, 

Wait silently till their fair lady moon 

Bids day is done—and night has come too soon. 


30 


THE CHOCOLATE DROP 


You may write about your Nicotines, 

That float on airy wings, 

That soothe the tired hearts of men 
Reclining in their den. 

But what about the chocolate drop, 

So plump and juicy inside! 

The girl is serenely delighted 
With novel and box by her side. 

Oh chocolate drop, with the cherry inside, 
My troubles are all defied, 

As you melt away gradually, my soul 
Seems like one long summer's tide. 


31 


YOU LITTLE FLIRT 


You dancing merry little eyes, 

You pearly teeth all gleaming white. 

You ruby lips that laugh and laugh, 

Oh! can’t you pout a little bit ? 

You wicked little flirt. 

And then those curls, brown curly curls. 
Ah me—my heart does faster beat, 

For curls, you know, I can’t resist 
And you have won my heart, my sweet. 
You wicked little flirt. 

But then those eyes, so sweet they seem, 
That laugh so wholesome and so free, 
Oh, surely is it but a dream 
And do you only love, just me? 

You blessed little flirt. 


32 


THE GOSSIPS 


With furtive glance and scornful lip, 

With eager ears their heads they dip, 

So that one word they might not lose 
Of the most fascinating news. 

They whisper, whisper, then they laugh, 

Oh, what a scornful, leering laugh. 

They seem to be so glad, so glad 
That another victim they can stab. 

Why don’t they come right to your face 
And tell you boldly your disgrace, 

But with malicious smile they sit 
And pick you to pieces bit by bit. 

But can they hurt you ? No, there’s the rub, 
If only you were what they say 

They’d grind you down as they would a grub 
And leave you to wallow in the clay. 


33 


THE TRAITOR 


Oh! dearest friend 
To turn so soon. 

False friend, to thus deceive me, 

My only faith was always 

One noble wish to save thee 
From hurt or any danger 

That might encompass ’round thee. 
And you could turn against me! 

Traitor! well dost thou 
Deserve that name. 

The kiss of a Judas Iscariot 
Has won him immortal fame. 

The stab of a Caesar by Brutus 
Comes down to us like a flame. 

And thou art a Judas, a Brutus ? 
Thou surely shalt bear their shame. 

The secrets of thy life 
I hold within my bosom, 

Secrets that might mar your name 
Or hurt your reputation. 

But fear not, even now 

Through all you’ve said and done, 

My honor lives to save you 

And the fair name you’ve won. 

Ah! dearest friend, that once was, 

A friend no more to me. 

How could you be so false 
To one that ever loved but thee! 

Although I do forgive you, 

Still that can never make 

Your honor any better 
Or your sins expiate. 

34 


SUCCESS 


I’ve got it, I won, 

That’s just what I wanted 
That look in those eyes so reverent. 

An hour is spent 

With brush, and back bent, 

But I got what I was aiming after. 

I’ve got it, that word, 

How illusive it seemed 
And thoughts that came tumbling faster, 
Oh, how I beamed 
As pages I reamed 
But I got what I was aiming after. 

To triumph, just once, 

Be it ever so small, 

The work in itself doesn’t matter. 

The most satisfaction 
That one can possess 
Is to get what you’re aiming after. 


35 


THE DEBT 


Is honor the debt I owe? 

Or only paltry money ? 

If honor it is, 

Why, don’t you think 
It’s the bigger debt of the two? 

I owe my love to you, my friend, 

The love of man to man, 

If I give not all 
Of the love I hold 
Am I not poor in refraining? 

A kindness I owe to you, my friend, 

If only a small word spoken. 

Shall it be withheld 
While I go on 

Forgetting a debt to a brother? 

I owe a debt, the greatest debt, 

To my self-appointed enemy, 

Is forgiveness so hard 
That seventy times 
Is too much to forgive an enemy ? 

My life I owe to you, my friend, 

And you, who scorn and hate me 
I would sacrifice all 
For is not it 

A debt to my fellow being? 

These debts of love, of kindness, of honor, 
To all mankind should be paid. 

Interest upon interest 
Is not what I want 
And honor in debts is to pay. 

36 


YOU TEEMING TOWN 


You teeming town 
All grit and grime, 

You’ve had me down 
And called “you” “mine.” 
I was your slave 
And had to sweat 
With blood and brawn 
I can’t forget. 

I sometimes wonder 
Old man town, 

If a man like you 

Could keep me down. 

From mom till night 
One weary grind 
And not much rest 
In you I find. 

The daylight sees 
Me workward wend, 

The darkness greets 
Me in the end. 

I sometimes wonder 
Old man town, 

How long ’twill be 
Till I get you down. 

There, old man town, 

I’ve got you at last, 

Down! Down! clear down 
In a mighty grasp. 

No use to pant 
You can’t unclasp. 

Now friend! tyrant! 

I’ve had my say 
And I think it’s about 

Ynnr turn to nav 

37 



OUT IN THE WORLD 


Out in the dizzy world 
Filled with fret and fume,. 
Out in the dizzy world 

Wrapped in joy and gloom. 
Soaring high up in the clouds 
Foggy though they be, 
Mingling happily with crowds 
Surging like a sea. 

Out in the dizzy world 
Feeling trim and fine, 

Out in the dizzy world 

Filled with life's sweet wine. 

Out in the busy world 
Flurried all the day, 

Out in the busy world 
Mixing work with play. 
Golden moments snatching 
For reverie and song 
Solemn thoughts a catching 
From the merry throng. 

Out in the busy world 
Busy all the time, 

Out in the busy world 
Doing something fine. 


38 


THE GLAD WAY 


It doesn’t take much money 
To make me glad and gay. 

The skies are bright and sunny. 

In my world of work a day. 

So joyous, happy, free 

Though I have a task to share. 

This old world smiles on me, 

And helps my burdens bear. 

I don’t need many clothes 
I am so very small, 

Just a dainty frock of rose 
With ribbons gay, that’s all. 

I don’t need much to eat 
I live on the sun and the air. 

Perhaps I have meat to eat 
But none can tell nor where. 

I don’t need company 
Exciting entertainers, 

To dance and chat with me 
Silence fair, profaners. 

My way is glad and lightsome 
Some folks say they are blue, 

They tell me they’re so lonesome 
That they don’t know what to do. 

It seems, if I should live, 

A second lifetime through, 

I wouldn’t have time to give 
To the things I’d like to do. 

39 


THE SUNSHINE OF MY SMILE 


The sun shines on the hot house flower 
Close sheltered, with tender care, 

And the proud rose in its haughty bower 
Feels the wealth of the sun's smile fair. 

The ragweed in a lonely nook 
Unkempt, and with never a care, 

In lonely silence, by others forsook 
Grows tall ’neath the sun’s rays there. 

The haughty dame, in her regal bower 
With everything heart desires, 

Basks warmly, like the blooming flower, 

In the smile of her admirers. 

And the lonely heart, engaged in its task. 
Though needy all the while, 

Forgets its lonely way to bask 
In the sunshine of my smile. 

The same warm sun smiles upon them both. 
The haughty and the lowly, 

And the sunshine of my smile and love 
I’ll divide among them wholly. 


40 


TO SEEKERS OF WEALTH 


Wealth is looming closer, 

I can feel it in the pause 
Of momentary ceasing 

Of freezing work and thaws. 

The clinking of the silver 

Jangling from the moneyed maws 
The clatter and the clamor 
And the smirking of applause. 

Must I leave this little cottage 
And a palace great adorn, 

For some uncertain destiny 
Must I leave you, all forlorn? 

My little music room 
And study all in one, 

My violin lies right in reach 
With Keats and Tennyson. 

The little love nest yonder 
Rose ruffles, on the bed, 

The coverlet lies close at hand 
To shield the baby’s head. 

The kitchen where I reign supreme 
A queen without a dread 
The family with eager joy 
From mine own hand is fed. 

The apple grunt and muffins 
The mince and pumpkin pies 
The marmalade and jellies 
Vanish with delightful sighs. 

41 


The flowers in the garden 
In their accustomed place 
And the climbing roses drooping 
That's wont to kiss my face. 

Where the lily bed’s, I know, 

The shy verbenas too 
The zinnias and the hyacinths 
And the asters pink and blue. 

Dear dainty little flowers 

On your cheeks are tears of dew 
I wonder if you’ll miss me 
As I surely will miss you. 

With eager ears I listen 

For the well known step outside 
And father coming home from work 
To rest at eventide. 

The planning and the scheming 
To make ends meet, at last 
The happiness of sacrifice 
For baby’s future cast. 

The evening paper scanned 
A little music too 
The hush of silence trembling 
Then the falling of the dew. 

So little cottage dear 
With your shining windows fair 
Without a lump of gold 
I’m a great big millionaire. 

You may take your pile of wealth 
Bury it in land or sea 
But the joys of great heart riches 
Take them not away from me. 

42 


WHEN MEN GAZE 


I care not that men 
Gaze upon my face 
And form of lovely grace, 

Nor that the line of beauty 
Like chiseled marble cold 
Should hold their intent bold, 

But when men gaze into my eyes 
I would that they might pale 
With glad surprise 

And find the living presence of a soul 
There to abide 

A thing not to be dallied with or tried. 


43 


ROSES AND VIOLETS 


If your path is strewn with roses 
With hedges tall and wide 

Would you wade the thorny poises 
To gain the other side? 

The violets rare are over there, 

And there the lilies bide. 

With blooming roses fair 
Are you completely satisfied ? 

Love fills you with its sweetness 
With wild throbbings of the heart, 

But in love's all completeness 
Would you stay its painful dart ? 

The sweets of after-math 
From a clear cold-cut pain, 

Are violets beyond the path 
Would you not the violets gain? 


44 


THE MESSAGE OF THE ROSES 


Pale roses wet 

Take her thy fragrance sweet. 
Lest she forget 
How vain I would but meet 
Her own pale self, to greet. 

And yet*at heart 

Your paleness blossoms red 

When petals part, 

Show her thy rosy bed 
Lest she think thee dead. 

Tell her, sweet flowers, 

That every petals fold 
My heart embowers, 

Entreat her to a kindlier mould 
And not to be too cold. 

And gently press 

The guards of thy sweet posies 

Through silken dress 

And remind her, gentle roses 

Of thorns my heart encloses. 


45 


THE MARRIAGE HOUR 


She comes, my sweet. 

In a misty blur, 

Twinkle pearly feet 
Bring the sweet of her. 
Hasten the hour 
Too long delayed, 

Fairest flower 

In garden or glade. 

Oh! heart of mine 
Too loudly clamoring 
Stay not the word divine 
So thickly stammering, 
Let me catch all of her 
Crush, petals and dresses 
Lost in a ceaseless stir 
Of long, long caresses. 

Sweet of my heart 
Forever and aye, 

Of me a part, 

Ere the close of the day. 
Heart of my sweet 
Enclosed in a rose 
Sweet heart, how sweet, 
Only one knows. 


46 


FRUIT 


When I was but a barefoot child at play, 

I took the pit of a large peach, one day, 

And planted it with eagerness of youth 

And said, “Someday, what wondrous fruit, in 
truth, 

Shall I pluck from this tree.” But now. 

Full twenty years have flown across my brow. 

Indeed! the tree has borne it's wondrous fruit 
But other lips enjoy, while mine are mute. 

Today I’ll sing a wondrous song, and pen 
The phrases of a theme, that hearts of men 

Shall all grow glad and young with love again. 

So sweet shall be my song that hall and lane 

Shall echo back the blithe refrain, and when 
Full twenty years or more have made their 
trend 

The trickling cadences of tone on viol and lute 
Shall other ears delight, while mine are mute. 


47 


WHAT I WOULD BE 


I would not be a man renowned, 

And boast of fame with laurels crowned. 
Nor lose my wanted liberty 
To be a great celebrity. 

The only fame I wish to bear 

Is love filled in the hearts that care. 

My latest thought, am I famed best 
Within my neighbor’s honest breast. 

I crave not for society, 

With pomp and all its piety, 

Where its exclusive ring girt ’round 
Shuts out the good in all abound. 

Let me in all divinity 
Be linked with all infinity 
My only care am I loved best, 

Within the sinner’s hardened breast. 

I would not step with haughty pride 
Nor prink, nor prate with others vied, 
Nor would I stoop to vain conceit 
Infused in every party clique. 

Let me be lowly, humble, more, 

Let me fling wide an open door. 

My greatest hope shall be my best, 

And all who will, shall be my guest. 


48 


ODE 


A noble and a highly virtuous soul 
Must find an outlet somewhere, 

If constantly poured in unto itself 
The ever crowding surge, 

Thus swollen, would gradually asphyxiate 
The sentient heart and mind. 

Thus is it ever true we find 
In days of sickness clouded, 

A lovely angel nurse administering, 

A fine and gentle touch, 

Pouring forth a golden stream of riches 
Her wealth of strength and heart. 

Th$ great white robed physician whose skilled 
hand 

Some trembling life hangs on 
Daily imparts his life, his strength, his soul 
Unto his noble work 

And ever more finds strength for strength re¬ 
newed, 

For having lost the old. 

And let me not froget the lowly gardener, 

’Mong nodding roses smothered 
How tenderly each shy and slender plant 
He safely guards and mothers, 

From mom till night he’s working with a will, 

He would not if he could, be still. 


49 


And he who in the halls of finance, holds 
The reins of streams of gold, 

Gives without stint the best blood of his heart, 
And fragments of his mind, 

Not for his own great glory, and greater riches, 
But for the good of all. 

And the inventor, that great and wonder mind, 
What heavenly muse has bent 
Her wayward flight and strayed so far from home, 
To whisper in his ear, 

Till struggling energies all boiling, seething hot 
Must burst and bubble o’er. 

And you, Oh! Golden Poet of the dainty lyre, 
With tongue and heart of Are, 

Blessed is the angel that hovered at your birth 
And gave you such sweet breath 
Your fame all trembling with pent up song 
You cannot hold it long. 

Burst forth and break, you swelling golden songs, 
Loose themes so fleet, 

Roll on and on all noble virtues 
And find expression mete, 

That glowing spark of life and love within 
Must never be effaced. 


50 


ODE TO MELANCHOLY 


Dark, grim, unearthly, shrouded shade, 

Again thy most unwanted presence looms be¬ 
fore, 

Enveloping all the sensing faculties of soul and 
mind 

Dashing with wanton hand, sweet Joy, that’s 
wont to soar. 

The cupid’s bow, still quivering from love’s kiss, 
that upward turns, 

Through thy cooling ardor and still more damp 
embraces, 

Droops downward, paling cheeks, scorched with 
love burns, 

Shading the fringed pools and killing Joy’s 
sweet traces. 

Sometimes thy visit comes so unexpected 
When Joy is reveling late and full of wine 

Drunk with nectar, has left the latch neglected 
And you slipped in, without a bid to dine. 

Oh! Melancholy! sister of darkness and the night, 
Lone visitor from regions still more lonely, 

Take hence thy form, nor let it shade the light 
Of Joy and Love, whose rays bring healing only. 


51 


THE BIRTH OF AN ODE 


Like a turbulent storm coming up in the west 
Is the swift agitating of the poet's breast, 

And the birth of a tempest from its might abode 
Is like throes of pain in the birth of an ode. 

Like a storm slow brewing in the darkening west, 
With foreboding silence, gathering might and 
force 

Till, tempest tos’t, the trees and earth’s warm 
breast 

Tumultuously are shaken in its onward course; 
Low raging, with swift lightning flash, 

Deep groanings, and spent thunder crash 
Till clouds above all grieving drop their tears 
And drown all anger with pure crystal spheres. 

So is the agitated spirit of the Master 

When some new mighty theme is horoscoped, 
Fl*om cheek to marrow, swift flushes follow faster 
Trembling the soul to its unbounded scope, 
Swift anger, superseding joy 

Vehement rage at some slight annoy 
Till rays of light revealing precious beryls 
Calm all protracted heat in drops of pearls. 


52 


ODE TO MUSIC 


Sweet enchantres, winged guardian of my soul, 

I well believe 

That on that day my soul was bom, 

Without retrieve, 

To me, your sweetest melody was borne, 

And though ’twas done, 

Full well I knew that you, a fount of golden song 
Could well miss one. 

And ’twas your sweetest from out your countless 
throng. 

So having heard such art from music’s fount, 

My soul was stirred 

With ecstasy to match such wondrous art 
With my poor skill. 

My lips long tenderly to form in words 
A chiming rhyme 
That suits the music of thy melody 
And lulling time, 

Of rythmic movement low and passing sweet, 
Slipping from fingers 

Attuned to Elysian tones and movements fleet 
Till music lingers 

Voluptuous, like the fragrant breath of flowers 
Plucked fresh, 

And tinged with lights from Elysian bowers, 

A golden mesh 

Of rhyming words can scarce be found to suit 
Such dulcet notes. 


My very fingertips long eagerly to hold 
That golden harp, 

Low breathing, the strings of which you grip with 
such 

A careless art. 

In wondrous way you sing of Zephyrus gamboling 
Gay and fleet, 

In more lively time, the lark and mock bird’s carol 
Soft and sweet. 

And long I drink the beauty of that lay 
Till vibrant strings 

All conquering, direct the musdy play, 

And music clings, 

Enchanting with riotous notes the charmed ear 
With harmony. 

Oh! Muse of music, sole mistress of soul’s har¬ 
mony, 

Breath of Life, 

Sister of Joy and tender comforter of sorrow, 
Companion of Love, 

Sweet solace of all consuming Anger, 
Conciliator of Hate, 

Take all of me, my strength and love and song, 
And mould me 

To thy making in softer, surer notes 
And sweeter melody. 

And in great worlds beyond, direct that symphony 
Of rolling spheres 

And hemispheres, till all shall blend in one 
Accord with thee. 


54 


WHO KNOWS WHAT’S ON THE MORROW? 


Who knows what’s on the morrow, 
Can vain imaginings 
Or flights from fancies tower 
Portray the wondrous things 
That w^ait me on the morrow? 

My curious eyes peer forth 
With glad expectancy 

At doubtful morrow’s worth 
Frought with pregnancy. 

Oh soul of mine, why sorrow 

And downward droop your wings? 
Leap forth into your morrow 
With step that upward springs 
Toward Elysian fields that flower. 

The gambling blood of sires 
Longs fretfully to chance 
The land beyond the pyres 
Perpetually enhanced. 


55 


FAME 


A true gentleman never courts fame. 
For fame’s a noisy fellow 
If diligently occupied, ’tis not his name 
That’s foremost in his worry. 

If the great Almighty has seen fit 
To entrust rare thoughts to him. 
Indifferent, he cannot idly sit, 

To the clariant call within. 

And if fame comes and covers him 
With flooding clouds of glory, 

Tis only a reflection of the great One 
Revealed in rhyme or story, 

And not of his own seeking, but through 
The wondrous deeds he’s wrought, 
And all glory, if there glory be, 

To the One who gave him thought. 


56 



I KNOW A PATH 


I know a path I love to wander in, 

That leads away from care’s besetting towns, 
Like me this wandering vagabond meandering 
Is also blessed with trivial ups and downs. 

I love to wander gaily in this way, 

The firm earth meeting my caressing feet, 

I cannot help but trip a little way, 

Although I think it quite a thing not meet. 

The leaves are dancing gaily, singing sweet, 

And far away I know, that scrutinous eye. 
Disarmed, cannot perceive my flying feet 
So laughing, hurl my songs up to the sky. 

But soon I tire of this gymnastic feat, 

And more sedately wend my happy way, 

And find a thousand things my eye to greet, 

From river broad to fields of new mown hay. 

Wee, winged things keep stirring up the grasses 
And I with wary eye keep eager watch 
Affrighted at the soft and low morasses 
That leave my hardened path a watery blotch. 

In crossing this the grass is long and tangled, 
And flowery weeds e’er tower o’er my head, 

I think my friend is wholly lost or mangled 
Or still worse yet, me thinks perhaps he’s dead. 

But no, beyond the trail picks up anew 

But Oh! what’s this ? And wholly unsuspecting, 
From out the reeds a crane flies into view, 
Himself a terror seeing, me detecting. 

57 


A hungry visitor, passing in the night 
Has stayed his journey on this reedy zone 
And rests and eats, e’er he resumes his flight, 
Till I disturbing broke his feast alone. 

A rustling soft, as mounting toward the blue, 

So swift escapes this clumsy heavy bird, 

As circling in the woods is lost to view 
I turn again my thoughts unto the sward. 

Wee flowery eyes look up to greet me well, 

The sweet sincerest eyes in all the world 
From buttercup to morning glory bell 

Their secrets and their lips to me unfurl. 

Soft thistle tufts from brown pods bursting 
through 

A downier bed ne’er could be found for fairy, 
Just touch it soft, and up into the blue 

It dips and turns and carols round so merry, 

And off it sails for many miles away 

Carrying safely, guarding its great treasure, 
Then falling gently, still sporting in its play 
It finds a home that suits its own pure pleasure. 

Ah me! The welcome greetings beaming 

How oft I’ve wandered here in morning’s dawn, 
And oft I’ve scampered down the hillocks greening 
To greet my friend with glad and lightsome 
song. 

He understands me in my moods of rapture 
And has a tear for me in days I weep, 

The glories glinting through this dear old pasture 
Its shining beauties daily in me seep. 

58 


With flowers rare I wind me here a crown 
And spirally I deck my dainty dresses, 

More sumptuous far than any queen in town 
Are buttercups that gild my flowing tresses. 

The path leads on, it climbs a sandy hill, 

No more I see such long and tangled grass, 
Through bars and up and on, I wander still, 

And waving timothy nods at me as I pass. 

Small bugs jump in and out among the weeds 
The devil’s darning needle darts and purrs, 
And here another on the pollen feeds 

And every blade of grass the cricket stirs. 

Afar I look across the silver bow 

That winds itself through meadows green and 
From hilltop high to gentle valley low 

The tinted shades are sprinkled soft and mellow. 

And on the water’s top the diamonds glimmer 
Rich, jeweled, hilted daggers glance and gleam 
The studded crest of wavelets shake and shimmer 
Like some unpotted gold of Arabian dream. 

I wander on adown the. sandy bank 
And soon I reach a little wood near by 
And there gay little flowers ’mong weeds so dark, 
Stretch slender necks to greet the blue of sky. 

Broad palmed trees invite me to their shelter, 

A sense of sweet protection girds me round, 
Here guarded from the rays of sun’s soft pelter 
I find sweet solace in a restful looking mound. 


59 


All unrippled, clear and calm, the limpid 
Water lies, close at my feet and here 
Great schools of fish, in circling bands, ’mid 
Shadows of lily pads, relax their fear. 

In greater depth the parent fish unmindful 
Of their babes ,are sporting in their play 
Or maybe are sleeping, of nothing fearful, 

Or perhaps are many miles away. 

Clear virgin river still unpolluted 
A noisy city’s in your way, soon 
Choked, twisted, of your treasure looted 

A cast-away you’ll be, discarded without a boon. 

All undiscerning my pathway brings repose 
Light breezes gently stir the leaves, 

Afar up in the blue in rows on rows 

A floating cloud a silken shelter weaves. 

In calm and quietude I see my path so dear 
Dwindling, branching out, now here, now there, 
Lost, enveloped, subdued in woods so drear, 
Untenable, alone, there goes my path so fair. 


60 


THE HOUR OF THE POET 


The hour of the poet is here 
But the world knows him not, 
Although he bides so near 
His own have long forgot. 

They call him an idle dreamer 
Smiling at plants and the trees, 
They’re amazed at this sensitive schemer 
Lost in long reveries. 

Though the hour of the poet is here 
And his own will claim him not, 
Though the songs to him so dear 
Shall be sung and then forgot, 

If one thread of gold he’s spun 
With infinite care and cost, 

This strand of beauty begun 
Shall not be entirely lost. 


61 


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